The Music Playbook
by Cead
Summary: A post-finale fic based on music about the lives of the survivors after the diamond day. First chapter: Leon/OC. After an attack in a small village, Leon is unexpectedly reunited with a gravely injured familiar face. Based on 'Another Love' by Tom Odell.


**A/N: This all takes place after the finale, except the flashback, which takes place before season one. This chapter is based on 'Another Love' by Tom Odell, and the next will be 'I Am Not A Robot' by Marina And The Diamonds. I do not own any of the songs this story will be based on. Other ships will be added later on, almost all of them in all honesty. If you would like to suggest song, I would be happy to oblige within reason. All comments are welcome :)**

Verse I

The towering dark trees stared down with damnation on the two shadowing figures below, one limping, one supporting. Both had cloaks, dirtied by the wet mud and dead pine needles that they had had no choice but to trudge through. The cold wind tore at what thin layers of clothes they had, crying out its protests with icy screams. Any birds that may have once lived amongst the overgrown branches had long flown away. Perhaps they should follow suit, Leon thought. But with Anna's weight so heavy around his shoulder, he knew that the forest was the only way she could survive. The blood-stained black feathers of the arrow stuck out awkwardly of her knee joint, and the cut on her face was still bleeding profusely with a point-blank refusal to relent. He pushed sweat-drenched hair from his eyes and looked around for somewhere to rest. Night was beginning to creep into the orange dusk skyline with the pearl crescent moon as its wicked smile.

There was something familiar about the air here, he was sure. He looked back at Anna. If she had been able to open her eyes fully, she might have seen it too. Acting on the only instincts he had left, he trudged through the puddle-littered soil and tree roots until he came to a steep ledge. He looked down. A long way down. The ground was wet with shadows that leaked through from the trees, but about halfway down was a small rock still clinging onto the last glimpses of sunlight. Except it wasn't just any rock. Tiny and worn, a small and poorly carved symbol marked the rock as a flag above the entrance to what Leon could only perceive to be Fate handing them a chance. How ironic was it that the one place they should find refuge now was the only place they had found it all those years ago...

The clink of chain mail and the laboured, husky breathing from Anna's throat occupied the eerie silence that accompanied Leon down a small path towards the entrance to the cave. Sure enough, there it was, the sigil rock standing guard above it. It was hidden enough for a night. As Anna's eyes closed beside him, Leon used up all that was left of his strength to carry her inside. A blind scramble into Anna's satchel led him to candles and a largely empty box of matches. Now finally with a hint of light, he was able to see the true extent of his old friend's injuries. He was certainly no physician, but he had been in enough battles to know she was unlikely to make it back to Camelot. And so where they met was where she would die.

God, no! What was he doing? Memories at a time like this... It was suicide. He had experienced so many, too many, deaths to be contemplating the when's and what ifs. But they were just so powerful, and the dark loneliness of the cave enveloped him so tightly that it squeezed the past before his eyes. He looked away from her pale face. There was a cluster of daffodils on the other side of the ledge, barely visible from the shallow arc of the entrance where he stood - it was as far as he dared go to try and breathe in something other than guilt. The bold yellow was a stark contrast to the abyss of black shades around them. Yellow was...

_Sunlight. Warm heat and a summer haze._

No! This time the cry tore from his lips as well as reverberating around his mind, the echo carrying in the dead forest. Behind him, Anna shifted slightly, the fever twitching her limbs into a cruel static dance. So much for escaping the guilt. If only she hadn't tried to save him, if only she had done what he told her to and run away. Not that had ever done what she said...

'_It's for your own good,' she whispered. He pulled her tighter, afraid of letting go. 'I can't risk your life anymore.'_

It was enough. The first tear slid painstakingly slowly down his cheek, soon joined by a second, then third. Afterwards, it was hard to keep track. After the brief moment of weakness, he realised there was no escaping the guilt and the shame and the hurt, so he reluctantly walked back to Anna's side and knelt beside her shaking body. He couldn't hold it back any longer. He let the past swirl back to life as he closed his eyes.

_Each segment of her skin was a white abyss into which he could lose himself forever, eternally tumbling further and further down into her. Every curve of her face and figure was sculpted like a masterpiece, flowing and flatlining in all the perfect places. The long black lashes that cascaded from her porcelain eyelids were like tiny dark crescent moons that still held their shine even in the shadow of night. They were the grandest of frames for the canvass that was her eyes. Colour and life like that of which he had never seen before were vibrantly, yet delicately, layered and lavished in luscious shades of silver that encircled the inky pupils. Leon yearned to run his fingers through her white-blonde hair, entwining his fingers in the infinite curls._

_But now, he knew there was no chance of that._

A small sound escaped Anna's trembling colourless lips. What should he do? He had already tried to treat her wounds as best as he could, but there was nothing else he could do for her. He unfastened the red cloak from his shoulders and lay it over her, the last effort his exhausted mind could think to make to make her comfortable. It took him several minutes to reach for his waterskin and press it to her lips. There was then a long and patience-tests effort to finally get her to drink.

_She couldn't know he was there. His mission was a reconnaissance one, stealth and emotional detachment were key...he could not allow himself to even thinking about the notion of...those feelings - he hadn't even spoken to Anna before. He felt the ghost of Uther's overbearing presence looming as a ghost over his shoulder, hounding him to focus. Anna stood up from beside the makeshift bedside and walked towards the fire to try and rescue it from dwindling into nothingness. She moved with extraordinary sadness and grace, her expression was grave. Her mother's stiff body lay with her face under a white blanket. The daffodils outside were in full bloom._

Leon looked back out at the flowers. The longer he watched them, the more faults he could see. The edges were browning, and the leaves drooping. The yellow was fading rapidly, turning to a darkening beige. This spring was colder than the one they had met in.

Verse II

Her brow was raging a fiery tempest. Her leg was bruised now around her wound, and the cut on her face was showing no signs of healing. Leon had managed to send word to Gaius, but even so, he worried. Anna was strong, a true fighter. Her strength was almost overwhelming at times. It hadn't just been her rock, it had been Leon's. But that had been so long ago, and a lot had changed. When he had seen her again, he had barely been able to recognise her as he pulled her up from under the wheelbarrow she hid under...

_She scrambled to her feet, clinging to his arm for dear life. The ring around her left hand dug through his armour and pierced his skin. Her hair was matted, with dirt clinging to the roots. The skin on her arms was bloodied and blotched. She was scared. He felt her tremble beside him, and then she turned to look at her saviour._

_'L-Leon...'_

_In that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss her. And then he remembered the ring pushing into skin, and the sky fell._

He still felt the exhaustion coursing through him. His eyelids felt heavy. If he slept... He refused sleep.

Being so tired made his eyes water. Was that exhaustion, or was that the memories? But none of the tears actually feel, they just teetered on the edge. Eventually he gave in. He slept beside her for the first time in years.

She was stirring slightly. Leon forced himself upright and opened his eyes. Rosy dawn light was slowly creeping inside the cave, tickling the floor with pink hints of morning. Anna was mumbling something incomprehensible in tiny fleeting breaths. Her dry lips were trembling with the fever. Leon tried calling her out of sleep with a soft whisper of her name, but to no avail. He gave the last of the water, then dared to venture slightly out of the cave to gather firewood.

He didn't know if it was the dawn light, the fresh air, or just being able to take a step back from the confusing mess of memories and reality. Perhaps it all of them, or none at all. But for whatever reason, as he bent down to pick up a small twig, as he felt the rough wood and soft earth beneath his fingers, Leon broke down. One tear, then two. He lost count after a few seconds and let himself be carried away in the wave, so much so that he didn't hear the approaching click of horse's hooves on the ledge above. It was only at the croaky shout of his name that he realised he wasn't alone.

'Gaius! I didn't see you there,' Leon called back. He was ashamed at how broken his voice sounded.

'How do we get down?'

'There's a path just there- wait, we?'

A face appeared by the physician's shoulder, beaming a wild grin. Sleeveless chain mail dangled down over his arms. It took some time to click.

Percival shouted down to him. 'Found you! We've been looking for you everywhere!'

'Yeah, well, I've been a bit busy. Just get down here, will you?'

Chorus

It hurt just to even open her eyes, they were so heavy. Her wound on her cheek was burning, freezing, and tingling all at once. Her stomach felt like Lucifer was clawing into her flesh. But there was something else, something on her hand. A...warmth, the one that one feels for an old friend or the memory of a summer's day. Anna realised it was another hand, another person, and her first instinct was to recoil. If it was Shayne...

_It had to have been him. There was no other way she could have ended up like this. She remembered the screams, the cries, the howls of the wounded, dying, and widowed. The gates were open. Soldiers of red and black collided like two tsunamis in the town square, each tearing away to regain control of Parahill Town. Shayne stood triumphantly by the mechanism, proud chest pushed out as the rebels surged forwards. His black burning eyes fell on her, his helpless wife caught in the storm. Her ring felt heavy on her hand. Shayne looked at her, and laughed. He laughed because he knew there was nothing she could do, just like there was nothing she could do when she had been forced into marrying him, just like there was nothing she could do when he beat her every night when he came crawling home from the tavern reeking of alcohol and tart's perfume._

_And it was then that the tables turned. In Shayne's profound pride, he had stopped considering the Knights around him, and soon, he was hauled down from the gate side and impaled._

_What happened next was like a scene from a dream. She waded herself through the battle towards her dying spouse. It wasn't sadness she felt. Was that bad? This man was dying, and she felt absolutely no sympathy. Anna looked around her. The bloodshed, the tears, the unbearable suffering. It was all his fault. He called the rebels to Parahill. He opened the gates. He might as well have killed them all himself (she had no doubt he felt like that too). Now, she was fine taking pain herself, but when other people were in pain...that really ruffled her feathers._

_She saw him. In the sea of capes and glistening metal, she saw the dying man. He had managed to pry the tiny dagger he had equipped himself with, but it wasn't going to help him now. Just like her._

_'A...Anna' he stuttered. She couldn't believe it. He was actually trying to ask her to help him! Of all the absurdities! After everything!_

_He raised his pale shaking hand. She laughed and shook her head. She was about to speak, when suddenly, he began to point. She turned._

_To a sword in her stomach._

_She sank to her knees._

_She fell back._

_Her head rolled._

_Shayne was directly next to her. _

_Anna couldn't help but look at him - after all, she couldn't move. He smacked her across the face with the back of his hand, cutting into her cheek with the blade. She couldn't feel the wound, but the impact rolled her down until she found herself underneath a cart._

_It wasn't until the next morning that she was found. She scrambled to her feet, clinging to the stranger's arm for dear life._

It was dark when she finally managed to pry her eyes open. Then, all of a sudden, light flooded her eyes. She shut them again by instinct, murmuring under her breath - although what she said she didn't know. The warmth on her hand shifted, leaving her open to the wounding of the bitter wind.

'Anna?'

Verse III

She was as fully awake as she could possibly be, according to Gaius. Leon let go of her hand and pushed her hair from her eyes.

'Anna?'

'She probably can't hear you,' Gaius muttered as he pulled another vial from his bag.

Leon ignored him and kept talking to her. She could hear him, she could always hear him. Just little things. Questions that she couldn't answer, small futile comforts, all accompanied by the brushing of his fingers on her forehead.

Percival returned with fresh water and firewood in his huge arms. He boiled a rag and passed it to Leon.

Time passed. There was no change in Anna's condition.

It wasn't until Gaius began to redress the wound on Anna's stomach that you could say things got interesting. Leon watched as Gaius took the bloodied bandage off, revealing the deep slice beneath. The skin around it was veined with bruises, but the wound itself was a dark scarlet abyss. Gut-wrenching to witness, Gaius put his fingers down in between the folds of flesh, searching for any shrapnel or debris. He was delicate, but his gentleness couldn't stop the blood and muscles squelching against each other. Percival had his eyes shut for the whole morbid ordeal. But that wasn't what was 'interesting'. No, that came afterwards, when the wound began bleeding so profusely there was a genuine moment when Leon thought she wasn't going to make it. But Gaius, somehow, pulled her together. That wasn't 'interesting' either. It was the clean-up. Some of the blood ran down her ribs, so Gaius began to clean it. And it was there that the white puckered scars began to reveal themselves. Slowly at first, as Gaius began to take it in, then all at once, as the shirt was lifted as much as humility would allow. Leon would have noticed them anywhere. Whipping scars. Front and back. Left and right. Then the bruises, a rainbow of sickly greens and yellows coupled with clouds of deep purple and blue. Then the cuts. Fractures. If you had seen it on the battlefield, it was somewhere on her skin.

It was then that the ring caught his attention again. Leon stared at it, anger and rage building in his puffing chest. His knuckles went white, his cheeks went red. Before he knew it, Percival had lashed his arms to his side. He looked down at his hands. He couldn't feel his fingers, and rightly so. His hand was broken. He looked at the wall. Drops of his blood were loitering on the stone. Had he really punched solid rock? He would have voiced his confusion had he not been screaming in pain and frustration, screeching out an outrageous torrent of abuse that seemed to take a life of its own, using his mouth without him even realising it.

He calmed eventually, or at least learned how to conceal his seething hostility.

Had he led her to live such a life? If he had only fought for her...

He watched as Anna shuffled slightly in her sleep, the muscles under the wounds sliding into place one after the other. Then she winced.

'Do you know who did this, Leon?' He didn't take in who asked the question.

He gestured to the ring with his good hand. 'Ask him.'

It must have been the first time his companions had noticed it. Gaius seemed to deflate slightly, then sat straight. Percival tilted his head to the side like a lost puppy. He looked at his friends, and all he wanted to was hit one of them. Or someone. Or something. He didn't know who her husband was, so he didn't have a face or even a name to put his anger to. But he saw him everywhere. A dark shadowy bulging figure. No face. No colour. Just a shape. Whenever he turned his head, he jumped into the side of his vision. Not far enough to see the bastard, just enough to be taunted by his presence.

He didn't sleep that night, or the next. Gaius wanted to move her, so Anna returned to Camelot. No word to the Queen was sent. It was all very hush. She barely opened her eyes the whole time, and only ever said one word. The whites of her eyes had turned red, her irises taking up most of their space. But she was still there. Behind the pain, the scars, the mystery. And the word. A soft word, sweet, no matter how broken her voice was. 'Leon.'


End file.
